173

173
Alaric’s POV
The coppery tang of blood filled the air, sharp and unrelenting. My head rested against the steering wheel, every breath labored, each second dragging me closer to unconsciousness. The dashboard lights blurred in and out of focus, but the only thing I could see was Emilia’s face-terrified, pleading-as they dragged her away. The way she screamed for me and tried to fight back, yet I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t fight for her. My barely beating heart shattered into a thousand and one pieces, molded itself back only to shatter again. And the cycle kept repeating itself.
I barely heard the sound of pounding footsteps over the roaring in my ears. Then the driver’s side door wrenched open, and a voice cut through the haze.
“Alaric! What the hell happened?” Allesio’s face swam into view, his usually calm expression replaced with panic.
I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, and my throat felt like it had been sandpapered. All I could manage was a croak: “Emilia.”
“Shit,” Allesio muttered, his eyes darting to the blood soaking my shirt. He reached in, hooking his arms under mine. “Come on, boss. You’re not dying on me tonight.”
The pain flared as he pulled me out of the car, my body screaming in protest. I gritted my teeth, leaning heavily on him as he half-dragged, half-carried me toward the house.
“We don’t have time,” I rasped, barely able to keep my head up.
“You’ll be no good to her dead,” Allesio snapped, his voice tight with frustration. “Let me do my job.”
The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the icy chill creeping through my veins. Allesio eased me onto the couch, his hands steady despite the panic etched into his face.
“Stay awake,” he ordered, tearing my shirt open to get a better look at the wound. “You hear me, Alaric? Don’t you fucking pass out on me.”
“Give me… an update,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Not until I stop this bleeding,” he said, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and a handful of gauze from the first aid kit. “This is going to hurt.”
The sting of the alcohol was immediate and vicious, but I didn’t flinch. Pain was nothing compared to the white-hot fury boiling inside me.
“Where is she?” I demanded, my voice growing stronger despite the agony.
Allesio didn’t answer right away, his focus on packing the wound with gauze and applying pressure. His jaw was clenched, the muscle twitching as he worked.
“Allesio,” I growled, my patience fraying.
“She’s gone,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “We don’t have her location yet. The men are combing the city, but it’s like they vanished into thin air.”
“That’s not good enough,” I spat, trying to sit up. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through me, and Allesio shoved me back down.
“Stay still, damn it!” he barked. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig, and if you tear this open again, you won’t make it through the night.”
“I don’t care about me!” I shouted, ignoring the burning in my side. “They have Emilia, and you’re telling me you don’t know where she is?”
“Do you think I’m not trying?” Allesio snapped, his frustration bubbling over. “We’ve got every man out there looking for her, but these guys were professionals. They knew what they were doing.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, but I refused to let despair take hold. I couldn’t afford to.
“Then find someone who knows,” I said through gritted teeth. “Shake down every informant, turn over every rock. I don’t care what it takes. Just. Find. Her.”
Allesio’s eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of sympathy breaking through his tough exterior. “We will, Alaric. But first, you need to stay alive long enough to get her back.”
The minutes dragged by like hours as Allesio worked to stabilize me. He stitched the wound with practiced efficiency, his hands steady despite the tension in the room.
“You’re lucky,” he said grimly, tying off the final stitch. “The bullet didn’t hit anything vital. But you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Lucky,” I repeated bitterly, shaking my head. “They took her because I wanted one fucking night of normal.”
Allesio didn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to the blood-soaked towel he’d discarded on the floor. “This isn’t your fault,” he said finally. “You couldn’t have known.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” I said, my voice low and cold. “She’s out there, probably terrified, and I wasn’t there to protect her.”
The room fell silent, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. Allesio sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he studied me.
“She’s tough,” he said after a moment. “Tougher than you give her credit for. She’ll hold out until we get to her.”
I wanted to believe him, but the image of Emilia’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind. She was tough, yes, but she was also kind, gentle in a way this world didn’t deserve. And now she was at the mercy of men who had none.
“We’re running out of time,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“And we’ll use every second of it wisely,” Allesio said firmly, rising to his feet. “Stay here. Rest. I’ll keep you updated on every lead.”
As he turned to leave, I called out to him. “Allesio.”
He paused, looking back at me.
“Don’t fail me,” I said, the steel in my voice leaving no room for argument.
“I won’t,” he promised, his eyes hard with determination. “We’ll bring her home.”
As the door closed behind him, I leaned back against the couch, my body screaming for rest even as my mind refused to stop racing. I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.
And when I got her back-because I would get her back-I’d make sure the bastards who took her paid in blood.